6 months in a blink

Once again, I've fallen into the category of 'blog slacker'. But this time I have a good reason. We've had a *few* things going on. Rather than write a novel I decided to summarize the past 6 months in a series of overused, overdone, often sarcastic cliches, quotes and phrases.

Making the commitment was the hardest part. We were comfortable at our house. Everything was redecorated, re-tiled and re-organized. The house was just the right size, not to mention we had fabulous neighbors. The milking parlor was gleaming white and brand new, the basement was outfitted with a double sink and shelving to make goat kidding season more efficient. The pens were built, the fences strung. If we could have just picked it up and moved it a bit north, life would be perfect. Work was getting the better of me and my poor sleeping habits so we put our little farm in podunk Amish where-the-heck-is-Adario up for sale. Shockingly, in 2 weeks our little farm in podunk Amish where-the-heck-is-Adario was sold! 

We searched and scoured southern Lorain and northern Ashland counties for the "new and hopefully improved" Capra Lane homestead. The trouble with buying acreage in this area is that a) it's sparsely populated and b) most of the mid-sized plots of land have either no home or a century home on them. Having lived in a newer home for several years now we just weren't up to the task of maintaining an old farmhouse, no matter how charming the shell may appear. Through a series of well timed conversations we fell on an opportunity to purchase a home in Brighton township, a 20 year old 36+ acre farm that served as a thoroughbred boarding and breeding facility in its past life. Of note, Brighton was named over 300 years ago as the area was heavily wooded except for the town square, where the sun shone brightly. Thanks, Rog.

Before I talk about how utterly painful the move was, there are a few more missing pieces. 

In that case, I LOVE the lawnmower. I LOVE the baler. I LOVE the brush hog. In LOvE with the manure spreader. Because every freaking thing we own broke in the weeks leading up to our move. And not just once. Fixed the knotting mechanism, the next day the whole shaft broke. The the steering shaft on the mower. Then the belt on the brush hog. Then the other belt on the brush hog. It was really trying. We were certain our neighbors had put a curse on us for moving ( they still haven't fessed up 😏 ) because there was just no other reason for us to be so miserable. Maybe we should learn our lesson and not buy equipment from the 50's...

We lost Elina, queen of goats, at age ten this spring. She was beautiful, stubborn, and a force to be reckoned with. At times she was kind of a pain in the arse but she was also sort of a 'goat ambassador' for visitors to Capra Lane. She demanded attention and back rubs and would clear the other goats before throwing herself against the fence and looking over her shoulder with narrowed eyes until someone obliged and rubbed her back. Her twins from this spring are still here- Elliott, her doe kid is a complete spaz, bordering on suicidal. Flash, her son, may get lucky here in the spring with some of our younger does. We also brought back into the herd Maribel, a daughter of Macy and Capone.

At the same time we were dealing with Elina's rapid decline and death, Luna, the barn favorite turned into quite a disaster. She first started limping, mild at first, then more pronounced, favoring one of her front legs which eventually developed into a rupture/ dislocation at her knee. She spent more time lying down than standing and started losing weight. Once the pasture greened up in the spring, she foundered on top of the pre-existing leg injury. So with 4 sore bruised feet and a leg in a cast, she earned a private princess stall where we modified her feed intake and pumped her full of meds to allow her to heal. She wore her cast like a champ, that is, until she started favoring the opposite shoulder from using it to push off the wall. The awful ripple effect continued and led into a deep infected wound on that shoulder which necessitated a t-shirt for protection. So poor Luna, barn favorite, 1st goat- is a wreck. Many months later, she's getting around like a champ, still in a cast as her knee remains unstable and (ick) only bends backwards. Her shoulder has healed, her hooves have calmed down. She trots, she grazes, she flirts with the boys by beating her cast on the gate. Yep, quite the charmer. I haven't broken it to her yet that her breeding days are over!

The yearly county fair came and went, complete with the usual cast of characters. Although this year the 'fair uniform' paired exposed buttcheek bottoms with tube tops and chunky necklace bling instead of tacky cowboy boot bling. Most importantly the cheese curd truck arrived, better late than never. Mmmmmmmm.......

On to the move. We were blessed to have 'early access' to the barns at the new house and moved a few loads of 'stuff' over the course of the month of July. We had to be out by mid-August, so the race was on. We had plenty of much needed help, plenty of bottled water and microwaved hot dogs and plenty of late nights. Cleaning-painting-flooring-moving-redecorating simultaneously is not that fun while milking goats and living in 2 locations. And moving a farm no less! But yet again, I convinced myself we'd get it all done. We had help trailering the goats to minimize trips. We baled hay at the last minute at the old place and dug up the beets from the garden. On the last day, we hit a wall. The chickens were adopted by the new owners of the Adario house because we just flat out ran out of energy and couldn't catch them too easily. The last loads were moved out and Rog made the slooooow drive with the tractor and haybine after dark. We've decided we're done moving. Really. And super thankful we had the foresight to not raise turkeys, meat birds and hogs this summer.

I'll admit this one time only. I missed having chickens. To clarify, not really the chickens themselves, but having eggs at the ready. We were chicken-less for about a month. Last week we built a coop inside the barn and bought a mixture of 6 laying hens and 18 pullets that should start laying in the coming months. A few breeds are new to us, like the silkies, one bird is wacko, the brown leghorn, and one, the buff Orpington, looks borderline cuddly. For someone. Not me. We are eggless no more.

The goats were difficult. They did not adjust well. There were cattle housed in the new barns most recently, so we had some cleaning to do prior to making permanent housing for the goats. We initially placed them a few to a stall, as we have a LOT of horse stalls now. They're roomy, airy, but you'd think we were killing them. It was hot, They fought like cats and dogs, panted constantly and we saw Blessing spit for the first time. Our everyday routines were completely lost. We built, we rebuilt, we moved, rearranged more times than I can count. And finally things settled. It took at least 2 weeks for them to act civilized again. They're getting braver with each passing week, the front pasture is a scary place as it leads towards the road. Cars are apparently terrifying! Every time someone drives down our rather quiet road they all haul ass back to the barn. Our old place was set back quite far with most of the road noise coming from horses and buggies. They're getting there. 

And so are we. Rosie and the pups have found their sleeping spots and sniffed every corner and crevice. Our socks are in a drawer, the mugs are in the cabinet. My list of winter decorating projects is lengthy. Work is still chaotic, but closer now. The tractor runs a bit longer, the mower gets a workout and we have a LOT of space. Although the sun sets on the 'wrong' side of the barn now, it's finally starting to feel like home. 

What's in a dog?

Once you have had a wonderful dog, a life without one, is a life diminished - Dean Koontz

Kaelyn was an old dog. But a wonderful dog. And like all wonderful dogs she left us much, much too soon, just ten days shy of what would have been her thirteenth birthday. A long life for a large breed dog, for sure. A good life, free from injury or prolonged illness. We watch our pets age and slowly decline, sometimes not so gracefully, and rationally we know they won't be with us forever. The not so rational part of us likes to assume they will be.

Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really. - Agnes Sligh Turnbull

If a dog's story is an extension of our own, then their lives and deaths as beloved family members should never be reduced to 'its just a dog'.  They should be credited as bringers of joy, unconditional love, welcome-homes and cuddlers. Foot warmers, face lickers and attentive, unbiased listeners. And sometimes, counter surfers, bed hoggers and sandwich stealers. Sure, the dog's story will end, as will ours but they too are deservant of  recognition for a life well-lived, a collection of chapters and experiences so closely interwoven with our own that we, their grieving caretakers can focus not on loss but on deeming their story complete.

Whoever said you can’t buy happiness forgot about little puppies.  - Gene Hill

Noone can argue that Kaelyn wasn't the cutest puppy on Earth.She certainly was. The day we brought her home easily makes the top 5. Those eyes! The belly! And the stale bologna puppy breath - perfect!

The first bath. And the first of many times she was a little pissed at us. She ate a lot of rocks, dirt, sticks and dead rotting fish during her puppyhood in Cleveland.

She was a first-mate to the captain.

A protector of goats.

A fearless explorer. 

A surveyor of land after leaving the city for the country.

She was a hunter of all things stuffed. Proud beside her first of many kills.

She liked to dance.

And sometimes she was an old Polish woman.

Who smokes...

She detested the vacuum, more so when I moved the furniture to clean during nap time.

She loved sleeping more than anything in the world. If we stayed up too late, she went to bed. If the weather got cold, she stayed in bed rather than come out for chores. 

Anywhere. . . anytime. . . bed hogger. 

She was so fond of napping she became a contortionist. And fit in the chihuahua's bed. 

And made good use of pillows or laps of any size, never quite realizing she weighed nearly 80 lbs.

She was an excellent mother to any and everything that needed mothering. Baby goats, human babies and stray cats. Thankfully she never quite figured out the chickens. 

She was an effective teacher each time a new misfit joined the household.

Her best friend was a cat, who misses her dearly and is clearly dissatisfied with the option of massaging me instead. 

She was a big sister to many.

And so, so tolerant of their needy behavior. 

She, like many weims, was photogenic beyond belief.

She loved to pose. Especially at the holidays, where Christmas trees equaled unattended tables and cookie trays, in other words. . . opportunity!

She was very routine. At dinner time, at treat time, at rawhide time she would sit, quite literally poking and nosing us and cocking her head side to side as we 'figured out' what she wanted. I waited and waited, sure that some day she would just spit it out and say 'give me my freaking bone already!'

And if we didn't oblige? She would often just join us at the table.

Kaelyn. A full life well-lived. She shared most of our human milestones with us and called Capra Lane Farm home for most of her adult life. She truly ruled the roost here. In a few short weeks, Capra Lane and its many inhabitants will be moving to greener, larger pastures (*more to come*) and her absence will certainly continue to linger. She was a good dog, despite her quirks, which were probably our fault anyway! We'll miss her companionship, gentle nature, loyalty, cuddliness and unyielding affection. The shoes she leaves behind won't be filled so easily.

I talk to him when I'm lonesome like; and I'm sure he understands. When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat. For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, but never a friend like that. ~W. Dayton Wedgefarth

Simple truths

In life there are many things we take for granted. For example, not many people panic that the sun may not come up tomorrow or that water may cease to run from our faucets. Most don't consider the possibility that we won't be struck down by lightning or hit by a bus on our way to work. We don't take the time to acknowledge that we woke up breathing. Or just woke up, for that matter.

Sometimes it's just easier to accept certain things as truth, without evidence, trial or firsthand knowledge. For example when we first moved out to no man's land, we decided a dual purpose ATV would best suit our needs for 'working the land' as we had not yet begun collecting our gaggle of animals or planting hay. ATV's are kind of a 'boy' thing, so when Rog explained that we'd need the biggest engine possible to pull a mower or a tiller, I agreed without hesitation. Now I know better. Our ATV can pull a truck or a small plane. It barely lunges when pulling a FULL hay wagon. I got roped in to supporting the purchase of a beast that tops out near 70mph. After all this time you think I'd learn my lesson.

1) Not all pitchforks are created equal.

Mine on the left, his on the right. He is very protective of his pitchfork. When we clean stalls he grabs it and holds on tight. Mine is newer, shinier but generally sucks at 'pitching' as it is intended to do. All the while someone is belittling me for picking up wimpy loads or failing to pitch at the appropriate depth. I just accepted as truth that Rog is a better and faster and more efficient stall scooper than I. I found fault more with my technique and less with my pitchfork. Until Saturday. 

Rog was out hooking up the manure spreader while we cleaned and rearranged pens yet again. Unbeknownst to me I had picked up his pitchfork instead of my own. Stab-slide-lift-toss. Stab-slide-lift-toss. Load after beautiful load was tossed with minimal effort in to the waiting spreader without much effort on my part. No tangling of the tines in the wet bedding, no struggle to find the separation of layers between straw and shavings. 

"That's my fork."

"You bastard! All this time I thought it was me and I clearly have an inferior pitchfork!"

"It's not the fork, it's the operator." (Said as he struggled to work a load onto the malfunctioning fork)

With a sneer I gave him the magical fork and stomped off. I came right back though, it was just time for a Coke. As we finished scooping out the last remnants of wet bedding, I gleefully claimed the 'good' shovel and all was right in the world.

I have witnesses. Blessing and Massey watched the whole debacle.

2) Conformation always overrules cute.

So not true. I'd like to say it is, but it's not. We plan breedings and pairings to better our herd in genetics and production. Yes, we do show the animals but I like to think I'm marginally serious about it.  If I go, I go. If I win, I win. If I don't, it's not the end of the world. Goat show wins do little to boost my self worth, if anything they help make the drive worthwhile. Luna is one of our older does, a black and white pied (resembling a Holstein) with a recessive and extra cute pink nose. For 8 years I've been waiting for more spotted alpine kids to keep. We've had a few, but they've all had penises, unfortunately. No doelings to bring color to our herd. Every year I jokingly pray to the goat gods for a pied doe with a pink nose.

Chicory gave birth last Saturday to a single doeling out of Bonner, our new Alpine buck. She is a nice doe, and is growing a nice little udder so when this holstein-esque girl popped out, needless to say I was very excited. Her nose isn't purely pink but is certainly bi-color so we'll take it! It's a bonus that so far her conformation looks good as well, but lets be honest, she is staying, regardless. Out of our 'Ch' name line, we are naming her Charming, Charm for short as we are currently engrossed in the final season of Sons of Anarchy. Who wouldn't want to name an exceedingly cute baby goat after a fictional town teeming with bikers murderers and prostitutes??

Delfina gave birth to a single doeling on Saturday as well, also sired by Bonner although this one is saanen in appearance. Delfina is proving to be a productive milker albeit she is a bit of a gate crasher and food hogger. 

3) You can't win them all. 

Macy fell ill suddenly this past weekend with little warning. She showed signs of gut discomfort and quickly became hypothermic and her rumen stopped functioning. We pumped her full of calcium, supportive medications, IV fluids and pain medication but ultimately we had to put her down on Monday as she was in obvious severe pain and failing despite treatment. In the photo there is a liter of LR with dextrose running with calcium gluconate at a very slow rate. The headlock is both for safety (have you ever told a goat to hold still for an hour with an IV catheter in their jugular vein?) and to comfort the doe, as goats are sensitive and affectionate when ill.  The cause of death was likely clostridial gut infection per necropsy, despite vaccination only 6 weeks ago. Ick.

Its always hard but loss is certainly a part of life, in livestock or otherwise. Despite our steadfast care and best intentions, death happens. More so as our flocks increase in number. Macy was born here, was an excellent mother to her kids and was an excellent producer of milk, nearing 15lbs (2 gallons-ish) daily. She was such a good mother that she mothered everyone elses kids as well often babysitting in the pasture as the kids romped and the other nursing mothers napped. She would have let the llama nurse from her, had she tried. From a more superficial standpoint, Macy was a good quality show goat as well, having finished her permanent championship a few years prior and produced several lovely daughters winning in other herds as well. She was petite, yet very correct, a voracious eater and an affectionate companion.

Of note, standard hospital issue IV tubing clips perfectly on livestock fence panels. I'm sure it was intended this way, right? A lesson learned under negative circumstances is still a lesson learned.

4) Most losses do, indeed provide a silver lining. 

The loss of Macy at 6 years old raises many questions. Why on earth did I sell last year's daughter? I should have kept her. Why did she have to have triplet bucks this year when I was so looking forward to a doe kid from her breeding to Firebird?

Wait. . . she had 3 buck kids from Firebird. Two are being raised by Elina, one we are bottling because he was a bit of a 'runt' at birth and was a good companion to Sicily (Sofia's little princess). And this buck kid from Macy is not too closely related to my other toggs. . . and he is sweet and personable and quite lovely in stature and conformation.

After consulting with my Togg-expert friend Jody, we decided it would be wise to keep him as his sire is more than promising and Macy had many positive features I'd like to somehow keep in my little herd. And so he is Max, for short. Capra Lane M Fire Maximus will stay on to be sire of toggs, friend to Bonner, stinker in the fall breeding season. 

5) Cute makes the long days of spring more bearable. 

Birth, death, work, shovel, scoop, milk, feed, water, shovel, scoop. Trudge through rows and ruts of mud, ice and muck. Feed more hay, buy more hay. Trim the hooves, shave the udders. Disbud the heads, tattoo the ears. Hoist up the uncooperative rears onto the stanchion. Fetch the wayward wanderers who rush the gate and charge into the barn. Clean the stalls and start again.

Why do they have to be so damn cute??

The streak continues!

Massey took her turn in the kidding pen yesterday. As you can see, no one was more eager than Massey to get those babies out. 

Aside from her belly, Massey is a big girl in general. For the last two weeks of her pregnancy she does the 'dog sits' and looks generally miserable. 

She carried on her streak of having lots of girls! 13 for 13 over the years, that is unheard of! Triplet doelings again this year and they are gigantic. 10 lb, 10 lb and 8 lb. This is our baby carrying tote ( or neonatal care center as we wish to call it) and usually once the newborns stand they can barely peer over the top let alone tower over it. 

We provide the first feeding of colostrum within an hour of birth. Typically the kid will eat anywhere from 2-4 ounces for its first feeding. I fed 40oz in the first hour of life and another 24oz a couple hours later. Yes, 40, forty, 4-0. These guys are going to be beasts. 

It was a light weekend, only one doe kidded so the rest of our time was spent rearranging pens, moving babies, dehorning and feeding. Some of the oldest dam raised kids graduated to the main pen and are using all their energy tearing around the place at top speed. Some people use logs, pallets or ramps as 'toys' to entertain the goats. We gave ours a llama. 

Welcome herd...litter...tribe...trip...cackle

Someone please tell the stork to stop coming to Capra Lane! We need a break!

It was a very busy weekend, once again the best laid plans were foiled. 7 does kidded from Friday through Sunday and did their very bes to ensure that we had minimal sleep, choosing to kid at midnight, 2 am, 4 am, 8 am, really any time except when we were expecting them. Thank goodness for goat tv. It makes life so much easier. 

Linden had been in the house all week, spoiled and demanding lots of attention while growing like a weed. I had promised her a friend all week, she was tiring of Luna and Tinder's constant licking and sniffing. Ask and ye shall receive.

Look at that face! I think she is regretting her friend request. She looks how I feel -frazzled.

Charlotte started the parade at 2 am Friday morning, delivering cou blanc triplets,  2 bucks and 1 doe. She is raising her boys and they are absolute tubbies already. After a few early skirmishes with Luci, she has adapted to motherhood well, this is her first year raising her own kids.  Emmette joined the fun and delivered 2 does without a hitch. Elina, too had an uneventful birth and gave us a doe and a buck, I was waiting on a doe from this breeding so I'm very happy about her. So far her name is Eliott, but I never commit until it's on paper. 

Emilene kicked off the day at 4 am delivering giant triplets, 2 does and a buck. She is raising her buck kid, we've found that allowing her to dam raise helps keep her weight in check!  Prior to delivering her belly was so big she couldn't fit through a 4 foot gate without rubbing the side rails, although she looks much more comfortable now a stranger might think she is still pregnant. 

Claire , though small in stature hides her babies well. She had triplets as well, 2 solid black kids, one male, one female and one solid white female. She needed a little help, a the first kid was trying to sneak out butt first. We grafted her buck kid on to Emilene who accepted him without difficulty after giving him a rubdown with her colostrum. 

Macy rounded out the day / night / wee hours by delivering triplets as well. Triplet bucks, unfortunately. We grafted the two largest boys on to Elina, who always wants babies so badly she usually steals someone else's. She accepted them readily and we are bottle raising the third, who was a bit of a runt in the house. 

My little Sofia, had the roughest time of all, unfortunately. She barely looked pregnant but surprised us by having triplets, sort of. Tiny, tiny triplets. So tiny she made me second guess the accuracy of my breeding dates but there was no mistake. She gave one big push and delivered two tiny legs and I quickly discovered the kids head was turned back- ALL the way back. This is one of the tougher malpresentations to correct as the kid has to be pushed all the way back in before fetching the head, turning it and delivering it. I worked and worked and couldn't get the head to stay forward and ultimately she pushed and delivered it as is. The tiny doe had sucked in too much fluid during the process, really struggled to breathe and despite our best efforts only lived for about 15 minutes. She delivered a second tiny doe, a pale chamoisee followed by a larger stillborn kid who had been dead for a few days already. 

Ugh. But to be expected. No one said raising livestock was easy! The little girl is doing better each day, she weighs in at maybe 2 lbs. she is getting a little more steady on her feet and has buddies up to Macy's runt buckling so she has a cuddle buddy. When she's not wrapped in a towel on my lap, that is. And when Luna isn't baby sitting. 

So we went from 0 to 3 to 22. With a few unfortunate losses. Massey is next to kid this weekend, then we have a "bye week" before Delfina and Chicory will kid, giving us our first Bonner babies. 

Here are the standings so far:

Luci- triplets, 2 b 1 d

Charlotte- triplets 2 b 1 d

Emmette- 2 d

Elina- 1 b 1 d

Emilene- 1 b 2 d

Claire- 1 b 2 d   ( 2 does available, 1 black, 1 white )

Macy- 3 b

Sofia- 1 b 2 d

Also, wethers available, 2 alpines and 3 toggs. Dam raised for 4H projects.